


Forget Me Not

by JellyBn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Modern AU, established relationship but not really?, idk what to tag as meh, no happy ending soz, youll get what i mean once you read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9981512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyBn/pseuds/JellyBn
Summary: It may be Christmas, the day of giving and receiving gifts, but Keith isn’t particularly concerned about it. To him, this day carries different meanings. It is his birthday after all, among other things, but Keith doesn’t feel any older, any more mature, or any closer to moving on from the past. He decides this year will be a turning point however, whether or not he’s willing for it to be so.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work for the Voltron fandom! I haven't written fanfic in like a year so I'm sorry if there are lots of mistakes :"( This is also written in a different style from how I usually write so im kinda iffy about it but anYWAY. This fanfic is actually an idea that I've used before for a different fic, but I rewrote it and changed it up and now its Klance LOL. Also I pooped this out in like two days so idk how quality it is ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Big thank you to [yuka](https://twitter.com/palmtreehero) who told me to write this in the first place and [oshi](https://twitter.com/oshietee) and [nai](https://twitter.com/taengelic) for encouraging me along the way ily <33
> 
> I hope you enjoy :"")

Keith has always been an unruly and unkempt member of society. Important dates always seem to escape his mind whenever they come round, and time just seems to fly by without him noticing whenever there’s somewhere to be or something to do. The floor of his room is barely visible, even on his best days.

Keith may have always been like this, but there was one point in time, long ago, where he remembers he’d fixed this terrible habit of his. An organized calendar, a perfect schedule and an immaculate house; the entire outstanding member of society package. Though how or why becomes more and more difficult to recall, as the years roll on. If he thinks hard enough, he might realize that he’s actually gotten worse over the years, and simply shrug it off as just another consequence of the increasing pile of work sitting at his untouched desk.

There is one exception, however, just like how there’s an exception to everything, and for Keith, that’s today. Well, more specifically, it’s today of every year, but that’s an unnecessary detail. He calls it a routine, to make it sound like he at least has some sort of control of the mish-mash that is his day to day life, but it’s not much really. While he _does_ have the day planned out, years in advance (the only reason is because it never changes, but Keith doesn’t admit to that), there’s only maybe two, three things lined up. It’s less like a routine, and maybe closer to a mess of habits, that string together to make a somewhat coherent timeline for the day.

Today however, is yet another exception, and it’s becoming clearer that Keith really does somehow manage to plow through any sliver of order in his life. Though he supposes the change won’t be major enough to really throw his life off kilter, but it will leave lasting effects, one way or another, he’s sure.

It’s a cold, Sunday morning and outside, the streets are lined with clear, white snow from last night’s freezing temperatures. It really does look like the spitting image of a child’s winter wonderland fantasy, with lazy snowflakes drifting from the heavens and sparkling icicles hanging from every surface.

On days like this, it usually takes the screeching of several alarms to rouse a begrudging Keith from his deep slumber and kick his ass out of bed. But on this particular day, he’s long since been woken up by silent ticking and cold, empty bedsheets. It’s on this day where Keith catches himself almost missing the familiarity of the noise. His bed ends up being made hours before his first alarm even sounds.

(It never does, not on this day. It never needs to.)

Keith sinks into a sofa by the fireplace, a warm mug sitting snug between his fingers, the heat gradually warming his icy fingertips. Glancing out the window, he’s not really sure why he’s still surprised that there are no hordes of children laughing in the snow, even after being exposed to the same image many times in the past. Parents probably wouldn’t approve of letting their children outside when the sky is still dark and the sun is barely peeking over the horizon. Besides, the children were probably far too busy unwrapping their Christmas presents and playing excitedly with them.

It may be Christmas, the day of giving and receiving gifts, but Keith isn’t particularly concerned about it. To him, this day carries different meanings. It is his birthday after all, among other things, but Keith doesn’t feel any older, any more mature, or any closer to moving on from the past. He decides this year will be a turning point however, whether or not he’s willing for it to be so.

After taking a sip of the drink in his hands, it takes almost all Keith has to not spit it right back out. He knows the drink isn’t made badly, it’s quite the opposite really, his entire circle of friends could attest to that, but it just isn’t suited toward his palette. It’s disgustingly sweet and light brown in color, a stark contrast to what he’s used to, and it reminds him of tan skin and bright smiles. He forces the memories into the back of his mind and locks them away, throwing away the key just for good measure. For a moment, he considers simply dumping the rest in the sink and leaving it for the future him to clean up, but something stops him. Instead, he buries his head in the cotton of the soft blue sweater he dons, trying his best to force the rest of the liquid down his throat. The sweater hangs loosely off his body with the sleeves ending at his fingertips instead of his wrists, designed more for someone with wider shoulders and a taller physique, but Keith wears it nonetheless.

(It makes him feel safer, warmer, happier).

Despite everything, Keith finds himself caught up in reminiscing the past. The lock that keeps his memories away has always been rusty and brittle anyway, breaking far too easily. It never gets any less painful for him to realize that the vibrancy of his recollections fades with time, and that now, all that remains are monochromatic shades of blue, with dashes of purple every now and then, when he’s lucky. It makes everything seem sullen and dull, and Keith wonders if he’s just being melodramatic, or if it’s because he’s been influenced too much by a certain someone, who used to bring a different meaning to the color of blue.

With the mug now empty and cold, the heat long since dissipated into the cool morning air, he places it by the sink when he realizes it’s far too full of dirty dishes and cutlery to place inside. He lets the water run for a bit, soaking the dishes so that when he gets back, he can at least attempt to scrub them clean.

Keith shrugs on a thick overcoat, not bothering to change out of the sweater underneath despite how ridiculous it looks on his thin frame. It’s comfortable and warm, he reasons as he checks his reflection, making sure that he at least looks somewhat presentable. He tugs on the hair that bunches around the nape of his neck, and he somewhat regrets cutting it. The exposed skin on his neck sends shivers running down his back, so he grabs his thickest scarf and winds it tightly around his neck.

His hair is a mess, and he looks like death if the heavy eyebags and bloodshot eyes are anything to go by. He doesn’t feel tired at all though, and Keith has the adrenaline from last night’s lack of sleep to thank for that. By this point, he’s completely stopped bothering with appearances, hair gels, face creams and various other beauty products sitting barely touched somewhere in his storage room.

Grabbing his wallet and keys, Keith hastily throws on his shoes before stepping into the harsh outdoors. His breath forms soft, white clouds of mist in front of his face and the air bites at the tip of his nose. He breathes into his hands, fingertips already turning red from the cold, before he slams his front door shut.

The sound echoes throughout the empty rooms until it fades out, filling the house with silent ticking once more.

 

*

 

Keith meets up with Pidge at the train station. He’s not sure when or why they picked up the habit of taking the train when they could just as easily drive toward their chosen location, but something about the hustle and bustle that came with travelling in a group made the journey easier, and less suffocating.

As usual, Pidge is easily recognizable in the crowd, despite their abnormally short stature. They’re covered from head to toe, the only visible skin is that small sliver that lies behind their thick, round glasses. They’ve layered themselves with so much clothing, their thin limbs have almost been completely swallowed by the thick clothing.

Keith gives a small wave and the nasty scowl on their face instantly brightens in recognition as they prod over, rather quickly too, despite how uncomfortable their attire seems.

The two easily fall into an animated conversation about their latest findings regarding their various conspiracy theories. It’s simple and comfortable, the result of years of friendship, and for a moment Keith forgets. Forgets the original purpose of leaving the house in the first place, forgets why is standing here freezing his ass off, forgets why Pidge is trying so hard to cover up that concerned expression on their face.

He forgets, forgets, forgets.

Pidge seems to be doing well, Keith notes, unlike himself. They’ve managed to set up that tech store they had been planning since their high school days, and it seems it’s been making good money. Their brother even comes to help out every so often, and Keith can’t deny that the pair’s skills really do exceed those of any other tech store in the general vicinity.

Keith smiles wistfully as Pidge fires off about the rude customers they’d received the week before, and it doesn’t go unnoticed, but they don’t say anything, for which Keith is grateful for. Years spent together has allowed them to communicate in silence, and they come to a tacit agreement that Keith would rather not be reminded of that particular topic right now.

As they continue their conversation, arms flailing and hands waving, the rest of their circle begins to arrive.

Shiro and Allura arrive first, with the exception of Keith and Pidge, and Keith still finds the sight breathtaking. The couple looks as though they’ve walked straight out of the front cover of Vogue, both of them carrying themselves with an air of confidence that seems both intimidating and welcoming all at once.

They seamlessly enter the conversation and laughter quickly fills the air. Keith mostly observes the quick back and forth between his friends, but offers small comments here and there, to show that he’s still enjoying their company.

Surprisingly enough, the couple brings along with them a piece of good news, and for once, Keith feels that today might not be as bad as it usually is. It seems they’re expecting a child soon, and even Keith can’t hide the small twinge of excitement that surges forward upon hearing that fact.

Hunk arrives not much later, a mysterious box in his hands to which he proudly reveals contains black forest cake, his own recipe, he proudly proclaims. That gets everyone buzzing, because Hunk’s bakery is known for its breads and cakes, and no one can resist the sweet smell of freshly baked goods in the early hours of the morning. Pidge reaches eagerly for the container’s contents, but it’s promptly lifted out of their reach, much to their dismay, and this time Keith joins in on the laughter.

When Coran finally arrives, moustache almost entirely white from all the snow piling up underneath his nose, babbling about his ungrateful students from the college he teaches at, they finally make their way into the quaint flower shop by the train station.

Keith basks in the warmth of the heated room, removing his coat and dumping it on a nearby chair to reveal the blue sweater underneath.

Surprisingly, no one laughs at how incorrectly it fits Keith, or how Keith’s fingers barely show through under the sleeves. He breathes out a sigh of relief at that, and proceeds to the counter for the bouquet he’d ordered weeks in advance.

In the meanwhile, he surveys the flower shop, noting all the new additions the shelves have gained in his absence. Pidge and Hunk had already settled in a corner, whispering hurriedly about all the gadgets they’d been fiddling with recently, while Shiro and Allura begin discussing the stock market with Coran.

Keith eyes drop at the sight that lays before him. They may have been his friends, and Keith appreciates their company more than anything else in the world, but in the end, each and every one of them has someone waiting for them back at home, in a metaphorical sort of sense at least.

Pidge has their family, in particular their brother, and it hadn’t taken long for Keith to realize that the two are practically joined at the hip. They seem more like twins born at the wrong times than siblings with an almost ten-year age gap. Hunk has Shay, his soft-spoken girlfriend whom he would be marrying in the coming spring. In all honesty, their relationship is almost disgustingly sweet, and Hunk had to learn the hard way that his friends preferred not to hear about how cute his significant other was ten times a week. Shiro and Allura well, they were pretty self-explanatory, their diamond encrusted rings sitting snugly on each of their left ring fingers. While Keith never really understood much about Coran, his existence seems to be a mystery really, at the very least Keith knows that he has Allura as family, even if they aren’t blood related.

Keith lifts his head, opting to study the various plants scattered across the shop, instead of letting ugly emotions bloom inside his chest. He knows his anger and frustration is misplaced, and yet the place by his side feels too cold, too empty, too quiet.

When the lady in the store calls for him, he silently takes the splendid bouquet from her fingers and places a bill on the counter, leaving behind a large tip he knows he can’t afford.

The tinkle in the doorbell clearly announces Keith’s departure, but none of his friends follow him out. They know he wants space, and it still baffles him how well they seem to understand his thoughts, even when he refuses to pick up calls or answer texts at any other times during the year.

He trudges back to the train station, the sweet melody of the doorbell still humming soft tunes in his ear.

 

*

 

_Keith rests his hand on his palm and glances out the window. His eyes are tired and threaten to close at any moment, but each time he feels himself drift off into nothingness, the stinging cold brings him back again. Each time he jerks awake feels like an icy slap to the face, and he furrows his brow in frustration. He decides to watch the scenery roll by instead of failing to let sleep take him once again._

_Outside the world is a sea of red, orange and yellow hues and despite his shivering body, it gives him a sense of warmth, and reminds him of the crackling fireplace at home, full of life and energy. The withering trees and grass almost seem to kneel before the gentle touch of the wind as it sweeps across the fields, sending loose leaves dancing into the air._

_Keith doesn’t get much time to marvel at the beauty of nature however, as the train begins to pick up speed again, all the warm hues mixing together into a blur. He turns away from the window and pulls his scarf higher up his face, shuddering in the decreasing temperature. The compartment is startlingly silent, empty save from a few older citizens seated further up the carriage, with arms folded and steady breaths forming small white clouds in the air._

_The seat is hard and uncomfortable, and Keith wants nothing more than to get out of this enclosed space, though he’s not quite sure if he would prefer the howling wind of the outside over the (only slightly) warmer temperatures of the train. He stuffs his hands in his pockets in a futile attempt to warm his fingers and wraps his coat tighter around his shoulders._

_Winter is almost here, he notes dismissively._

_All of a sudden, he feels a warm presence lean into his side, and soft brown hair tickles his face. He hears the muttering of random gibberish before it fades into light snoring, but for some reason, it’s more endearing than annoying, and Keith can’t help but softly brush away the bangs that covers tan skin and bright, blue eyes. His lips curl, despite the aching cold, and suddenly, the entire train feels warmer and brighter._

_Winter is almost here, Keith notes. But maybe, that isn’t so bad._

*

 

Keith opens his eyes, jerked awake by the biting cold. He rests his head on his palm, and glances out the window. The scenery outside appears startling white compared to how he remembers it, and he’s left with an odd emptiness in his chest. Watching the scenery seems pointless when he can’t differentiate the grass from the trees, or the leaves from the snow, so he turns back, pulling his scarf higher up his face.

He shudders and blows into his hands in a futile attempt to warm his fingers, before he stuffs them in his pockets. Keith’s sure it’s probably all in his head, but the temperature of the train carriage seems to decrease as they plow forward.

Winter has arrived, and the space by Keith’s side is empty.

 

*

 

It’s a little jarring how the place never changes, as if time itself has stopped in this one run down place far away from civilization. Even the weather seems to slow down with the howling wind lightening to a soft breeze and the dying vegetation being significantly less covered in snow.

Among the yellowing grass and white patches of snow sits rows upon rows of flowers, arrangements and displays similar to the bouquet gripped tightly in Keith’s hands. Each time he returns, Keith feels as though his actions become more and more insignificant, until he realizes that what he’s doing isn’t so special at all, and that he’s simply one of many.

He glances down at the mix of yellow and blue in his hands, before he gingerly places it in front of the stone that stands before him. He still remembers the first time he’d picked the flowers out, despite knowing next to nothing about the language of flowers. He was usually the one on the receiving end after all. The lady in the flower shop had laughed at him, saying that Sunflowers and Forget-me-nots were a weird combination, although it was without ill intent.

It hadn’t mattered at the time though, because all Keith had known was that he loved them; both of them did. In the end, he couldn’t really bring himself to order anything else.

Despite there being clear evidence of human activity, the area is surprisingly empty, and Keith’s glad for that. Most people probably wouldn’t consider a graveyard the most exciting of places to visit during Christmas day.

This is usually the point where Keith leaves to return back to his empty home, just to slink back into his empty bed and succumb to a dreamless sleep.

But today, today is different.

He hasn’t told any of his friends about his decision, but he wonders if they know already. They’ve already displayed their uncanny abilities to understand Keith’s thoughts, and Keith wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already seen through his act.

Keith lets his mind wander, back to times he wishes he could return to and moments he wishes he could bring back. He lets his mind wander back to the time where his world was small, contained in a single bright spirited boy, yet so wide and vast, there was barely enough time to discover it all.

Even in his memories, everything is a mess, different events tossed haphazardly around as he jumps through different periods in the timeline. But there’s always a constant. A boy with rich, brown skin and soft, chocolate colored hair. A boy with white teeth that shone with each bright smile that crossed his face, eyes crinkling at the edges in ways that gave Keith more warmth than the sun. A boy with the brightest, green eyes.

Keith frowns at that.

Or were they blue? Purple perhaps? The more Keith tries to remember, the hazier the image becomes, and soon he can barely remember their features at all. Did they have light blonde hair? Or was it jet black like his own? He feels his heart ache as the image crumbles beneath his fingertips and he tries desperately to reclaim the fragments of his memory that only seem to elude his grasp.

He tries and tries and tries, until he realizes that’s what he’s here for.

He’s here to forget.

But the ache in his chest refuses to budge and his heart stays lodged in his throat and Keith begins to wonder if he’s making the right decision. Maybe he needs more time, to rethink and revise his choice. Will he regret this? Is this what Keith wanted? Does it have to be right here, right now?

Keith stops himself before his thoughts run any further than they already have. He can still feel the pain that throbs in his heart, but he also feels a sense of peace, because he’s finally going to move on, he’s finally going to forget, he’s finally going to let his time flow again.

He doesn’t bother himself with a long introduction or explanation, for fear that he may question his decisions once again. He’s always been the more straightforward one anyway. He tenses, bracing himself for the words that lie on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released, but it doesn’t stop it from stinging when he finally musters up the courage to cough out the two words.

“Goodbye, Lance.”

Keith pauses, as if waiting for a response, for someone tell him that he’s done well and that he’s done the right thing, but nothing comes aside from a gentle gust of wind that nudges him back and away from the headstone. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the words die before they escape his lips.

Instead, he turns around and hastily walks away. He never looks back. Not even when the wind picks up speed and the snow falls heavier. Not even when his chest fills with regret and hot tears run down his cheeks. Not even when he can no longer remember if Lance was the name of his best friend, his lover, his world.

_I loved you_ , remains unspoken and dissipates into the air.

 

*

 

_“Hey Keith, you won’t forget me… right?”_

_Keith looks at the boy sitting beside him, but he can’t quite see the expression on his face. He tells himself this is somebody important, but why exactly doesn’t quite register._

_“Why would I forget you L*nce,” he grumbles._

_Keith feels the boy grab his hand, and in that instant, he looks so lost and fragile, as though he would simply disappear in a puff of smoke if given the chance._

_“Really?” he questions, and Keith finds himself drowning in the sea of the boy’s sparkling eyes. “Even after I die?”_

_“Of course not, L**c*,” Keith affirms. “I would never…”_

_He hesitates._

_“I would never forget you, *****.”_

*

 

**“Liar.”**

**Author's Note:**

> Im sorry if there were any mistakes, please feel free to point them out if there are and Im open to any criticism you might have! 
> 
> I'd love to talk about literally anything voltron and klance related!  
> Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/BakedMPotato) or [tumblr](https://baked-mashed-potato.tumblr.com)


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